The door opened. "Why, Mr. Leland! How good to see you!"
Myles smiled. "Violet, you've been Grandfather's nurse for ten years now. Will you please call me Myles?"
There was a laugh under the woman's breath. "Not within earshot of your grandmother. I like my job."
"Well, she's downstairs, so quit worrying." He peered over her shoulder. "Is Grandfather up to a visitor?"
A strong voice, a bit tremulous, answered from behind her. "Of course I'm up to a visit from my grandson. Get yourself in here."
Violet chuckled again as Myles stepped in and went to his grandfather's bedside. The old man was propped up, surrounded by more medical equipment than DC General. Most of it was unnecessary; his grandfather had Parkinson's disease, which left him trembling noticeably and unable to fend completely for himself, but most of the equipment was to appease Margaret, who was intensely overprotective.
"So what brings you in here? I figured Teresa would have you hostage in the conservatory by now."
Myles chuckled. "Actually, that's why I'm here. You feel up to a little field trip?"
The old man's eyes twinkled. "To listen to Teresa? What are you trying to do, get your inheritance early?"
The Harvard grad grinned. "Granddad, I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy. Hmm… well, perhaps to one of my co-workers, but…" He shook his head slightly. "Trust me, there's someone you need to meet and something you need to hear."
Reginald Effingham gave his grandson a piercing look, then smiled broadly. "Well, then, let's go. Violet, saddle up the wheelchair."
.
She was playing through the piece again when Myles opened the door. Reginald looked up at his grandson from the wheelchair. "Either Teresa's been under the knife considerably, or this must be the young lady Anne's been telling me about," he said softly.
Myles chuckled. "Since I doubt Aunt Teresa would ever stoop to plastic surgery, I'd go with your second assumption."
At the sound of their voices, Elizabeth stopped suddenly and turned around. She started to rise, but the old man raised a shaky hand. "Don't you dare, miss. If you stand up, I'm going to feel obliged, and Violet's likely to hog-tie me if I do."
The psychologist laughed. "We can't have that, can we?"
"I like her already, Myles. Are you going to introduce us or not?" The gruff voice was belied by the twinkle in his eye.
The younger man laughed again. "Granddad, I'd like you to meet Dr. Elizabeth Dillingham. Elizabeth, I present my grandfather, the honorable Reginald Effingham the Fourth, Esquire."
"Good heavens, Myles, you're going to scare her off before I even get a chance to know her."
Elizabeth smiled and held out her hand. "Believe me, Mr. Effingham, it takes more than a highbrow name to scare me off."
Reginald eyed her for a moment, then took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I would imagine, since I'm assuming you're David Dillingham's granddaughter. I can see the family resemblance, though you obviously got your wit from somewhere else. And, if you've managed to capture my grandson's rather sheltered heart, then I think you'd best start calling me 'Granddad' as well."
"You're on."
The old man looked up at Myles. "Now, you said there was someone I needed to meet, which I have, and also something I needed to hear. I'm not getting any younger sitting here."
The agent nodded, grinning. "All right, all right." He turned to Elizabeth. "In case you hadn't noticed, Granddad is very used to having things his own way."
"I hadn't noticed," she replied playfully. "But I suppose we should humor him." She flashed a radiant smile at the old man, who shook a finger at her.
"You, young lady… are perfect for my grandson here. It's about time, Myles."
"Do you want to hear this or not?"
Reginald laughed. "By all means." He settled back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.
Myles picked up the violin again, checked to make sure it was still tuned, then flashed a smile at Elizabeth and nodded for her to begin.
It was a repeat of the first time; they were lost in each other and the music before they even finished the first verse. This is how I've always heard it in my head, Myles thought to himself. How marvelous to finally hear it out loud, and that Granddad can hear it as well. This is what I've always wanted to do for him.
When they finished, he turned to the old man and was astonished to see tears coursing down the wrinkled cheeks. He laid the violin down and knelt by the wheelchair. "Granddad?"
Reginald Effingham drew in a shaky breath before he spoke. "You tell your grandmother this is the last time you're going to run her maze. Then, after tonight, you take that Strad home. It's yours now."
Myles' brows shot up. "But…"
The old man placed a hand on his arm. "You think I don't realize what you've been through over the last twenty-plus years? That this has been sheer torture for you?" He dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't put a stop to it earlier. I had hoped that one day you'd just tell her you'd had enough, and that you would rediscover the joy of it for yourself. But I guess perhaps the 'family duty' speech got drilled into you one time too many."
"Granddad," Myles replied softly, "now I'm glad you didn't stop it. I'd probably have given up altogether."
"Perhaps." Reginald looked up again, and now he gathered Elizabeth in with his eyes as well. "But the two of you… you deserve a chance to explore the harmonies without outside interference. There will be no further 'summons' — I promise you that." He reached out and took Elizabeth's hand as well. "Thank you for making his dreams reality."
She shrugged delicately, a bright smile on her face. "Just returning the favor."
"I can tell." He placed their hands together and looked up at Violet. "Well, don't just stand there, woman. Pull out my tux and brush off the moths. It's about time I made an appearance at one of these monsters."
The nurse laughed merrily. "Yes, sir. But you have to run interference with your wife for me."
Reginald Effingham grinned broadly. "Don't you worry. I've been saving up my energy, and my temper, for just such an occasion."
.
Myles and Elizabeth walked out onto the balcony from the conservatory, pausing to take in once again the sweeping grandeur of the place. Elizabeth turned and stepped into his arms. "I like your grandfather. He's quite a character."
The agent laughed softly. "Yeah, Granddad's a card, all right. But I've never seen him go head-to-head with Grandmother before. This should be interesting."
"Well, I'm betting on 'Granddad' to come out the victor. Besides, he already told you to tell her 'no more' anyway."
Myles' expression softened into a bit of wonder. "I never knew… never asked why he didn't do something… why he let her insist year after year… it wasn't, didn't seem like my place to be the one to rebel, so I left it up to him. And all the while, he was leaving it up to me."
"Now you both can tell her." She stretched up and gave him a gentle kiss. "Well, let's go see what the setup is for later, and see if anyone else has arrived."
They started down the stairs just as the doorbell chimed. Margaret's voice echoed from below. "No, Stewart, I'll get it. You finish up there."
She swept out into the foyer and opened the doors. "Welcome! I—" Her voice died in her throat, and Myles stopped mid-step.
"Grandmother." Sam Leland, impeccable in a black tux accented with silver tie and cummerbund, with Tara on his arm, couldn't have made a better entrance. For a moment, Margaret was speechless, and her eyes flew up to the conservatory doors, her face a mask of bewilderment. When she saw Myles and Elizabeth on the stairs, though, she realized she wasn't in the midst of a magic trick.
Myles leaned over to Elizabeth. "Did you know about this?" he whispered to her as Margaret mutely stepped back to let the couple inside.
The psychologist nodded. "Yes; he felt he needed to do it for a couple of reasons, only one of which was for himself."
"He was going to brave this 'monster,' as my grandfather so eloquently put it, on my account?" The blue-grey eyes were wide. "Wow."
"That was part of it," she replied. "But mostly this is for him. He decided it was time to 'beard the dragon lady,' I think is the phrase Tara quoted." Now she gave him a solemn gaze. "You going to be okay with a co-worker knowing your little musical secret?"
He thought for a minute, then smiled. "If it were anyone else, I'd be a lot more nervous. I've learned over the years that I can trust Tara. Besides, I suspect she'll probably be my sister-in-law in not too many more months, so there are only so many secrets I can still keep."
"True," Elizabeth laughed. "Shall we go lend a little moral support?"
Myles held her back. "Actually, no." At her surprised glance, he clarified. "Not just yet. Give him a chance. He's been waiting for this, I can tell."
Margaret Effingham had finally found her voice again. "Samuel… this is certainly a surprise."
"I'm sure it is." Sam flashed a crisp smile. "I hope I haven't overstepped any boundaries. I simply assumed the family invitation included me. That is alright, isn't it?"
Margaret looked over at Myles again, who merely shrugged as if to say "What?" Then she turned back to Sam, a practiced smile crossing her lips. "Why, of course it's all right. Do come in, and introduce me to your lovely companion."
A flicker of a genuine grin crossed Sam's face, and they stepped inside. "Grandmother, may I introduce you to Miss Tara Williams, of Washington, D.C. Tara, my grandmother, Margaret Effingham."
Myles had to smother a grin as Tara stepped forward and held out her hand as demurely as if she'd been debuted at age sixteen. He whispered to Elizabeth again. "Okay, which of the two of you talked her into this? This isn't exactly a comfort zone for her."
"It took a couple of little pep talks, and I'm sure those blue opals you see around her neck and on her ears didn't hurt," she whispered back. "But I think you'll find she's ready for this."
"Oh, I have no doubt. But is Grandmother?"
.
Tara was glad that Sam had decided to make his entrance a little early; she wasn't sure that his grandmother could have handled it in the midst of a crowd. She internalized the smile tugging at her lips, and watched the older lady.
A few hours earlier, she had been as nervous as Margaret Effingham looked now. But Sam had cured all that...
Sam pressed the doorbell, and nervously drummed the fingers of his other hand against his leg while he waited. The jewelry box was in his pocket— he had debated holding it in his hand, but was afraid he'd crush it if he had to wait very long.
Slowly, the door swung open. There stood Tara, in a gown that defied description. Strapless, hugging every curve and then flaring to sway around her legs, it gave the impression that she was floating. The simple lines of it made an elegant statement, and the color deepened her eyes until he was certain that her soul was evident to the whole world. He was positive thedeep purplehad an actual name, but he couldn't remember what it was. Breathing was taking too much of his concentration. Finally, he managed to force his lips to form a word. "Wow... you're... wow."
Tara dropped a bit of a curtsy. "Why, thank you, Sam." Her cheeks colored a little. "I think 'wow' covers the way you look, too."
He shook his head vehemently. "There's no way I'm that good looking. I can't wear dresses." He swallowed hard, and continued staring for a minute. Then he blinked and grinned, "Oh, yeah...I have something for you."
She smiled. "Why does that not surprise me? And it's useless to argue, as usual?"
Sam's grin widened. "Of course, milady. I'm not risking the return counter— those people are mean. You have to keep it."
Her smile gained a sad quality. "You keep it up, and I'm going to have all the trappings of a highbrow; too bad you can't do something about the pedigree or the upbringing."
One brow arched, in a perfect imitation of Myles. "There are ways..." Sam smirked at her. "But that wouldn't be as fun as shocking all the rich people."
She turned away from him, rubbing her hands on her arms as if to combat a chill. "Sam, I'm serious; I feel like I'm going to walk in there tonight among all those socialites and have this huge flashing neon sign on my forehead that screams 'common.' I mean, we've done stuff like this during undercover assignments, but that was just pretending." Now she faced him again. "This is real."
The smirk faded, and he was suddenly serious as he stepped inside and pulled the door shut. He brushed one strand of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, and then gently took her by the shoulders. "Yes, it is real. And you'll be fine. I'll be with you the whole time, and God help anyone who so much breathes the wrong way near you. They may have some high-and-mighty view of themselves, but they're just people, too."
She sighed. "Liz said the same sort of thing earlier... that it didn't matter. I just...can't help feeling like Cinderella, the common girl who's just playing a princess and it all goes away at midnight."
"We'll stay past midnight and prove you wrong, then." Sam hugged her to him, and dropped a kiss in her hair. "You've been my princess for months now. It's just time everyone else saw you that way— and they will, I'm sure of it."
Tara couldn't help but giggle. "A princess who regularly creams you at MarioKart? You have some strange ideas on royalty." She reached up and ruffled his hair. "But thank you. You make me feel like a princess."
He grinned down at her, speaking with a false British accent. "I do try, milady. I do try." While he spoke, Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the jewelry box. He held it up for her to see, and dropped the accent. "Every princess needs something special to wear."
Tara's eyes went wide at the sight of the glowing opals. "Oh, Sam," she breathed. "They're...they're the prettiest things I've ever seen. I don't know what to say."
He dropped his voice to a whisper, and teased. "'Thank you' usually works pretty well."
She smiled playfully. "Tell you what; you put this necklace on for me, and then I'll give you a 'thank you' that will curl your toes. How's that sound?"
Sam gulped, and nodded hastily. He fumbled with the latch on the necklace, and slipped the thin chain around her neck. After a second's struggle, he moved around her so he could see the clasp. A soft click sounded and his hands trailed down the excess chain, to the middle of her back, and then stepped back slightly.
She turned, and caught his hands. Stretching up onto her toes, she whispered, "Thank you for making me feel like a princess even without spending a dime. And for keeping my life beyond fun." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips, then slid her hands up his arms and around his neck. When they parted, he shook his head a bit.
"Wow… that was way better than anything. Even the ending of Final Fantasy X." …
She smiled at the memory, and drew her attention back to the present. Margaret was just asking Sam, "So, it has been quite awhile, Samuel. What have you been doing with yourself?" The old woman's voice was so blatantly rehearsed that Tara felt like slapping her.
But Sam just leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and draping one arm across the back. "Recently? I'm purchasing a house in the D.C. area. And my broker has been brilliant this quarter; I've been involved in several very nice stock rises."
Margaret's penciled brows went up. "That's...wonderful. It sounds like you're doing quite well for yourself. I'm sure the Capitol will be a splendid area for you."
"I'm sure it will be. I already love it." Sam glanced behind her. "Actually, there is something else that brought me here tonight, Grans." He watched her wince at the term and smothered a grin, but also caught a movement behind her. He raised a brow as Myles shook his head quickly and made a cutting motion across his throat. It's ok, Sam, echoed briefly in his head, I've got it covered.
"Really?" Margaret looked ready to bolt, but she maintained her composure. "What would that be?"
Now he smiled. "Entirely too long since I saw Granddad, of course. He's up to a visitor, I hope?"
The relief on her face was comical. "I'm sure he would love that. I'll see if he's feeling up to it."
Time to rescue Grandmother, Myles thought with a delighted smile at his twin. Nice work, bro. He took Elizabeth's arm and walked into the parlor. "Actually, Grandmother," he said aloud, causing her to whirl around, startled, "I believe Granddad is upstairs right now getting 'all gussied up,' as he phrases it. He's planning to make an appearance tonight."
"He is?" The woman looked utterly bewildered. "Well, this year's event is just going to be full of surprises." She stood, trying to regain her composure. "I should see if he needs any help, then. Will you all excuse me for a few minutes? By all means, help yourselves to a glass of wine or cider, if you wish." She started out of the room, then glanced back just once at the foursome; her poise couldn't quite cover up for the obviously flustered feeling working its way through her.
They waited until she was upstairs; then Myles couldn't stand it any longer. He eyed his brother with a grin. "'…and my broker has been brilliant this quarter'?" he imitated. "You're going to kill her off from sheer confusion."
"Well, he has!" Sam protested. "I just don't...usually talk about it."
"That's not what I meant," Myles chuckled. "She kept looking at you like you were going to leap up and swing from the chandelier any second, and you're sitting here calmly discussing stocks..."
"I was tempted," Sam gave the chandelier a rueful glance. "Very tempted. But the look on her face was worth it."
Elizabeth shook a finger at him, giving him a fond look at the same time. "You enjoyed that immensely, didn't you? Not that I blame you."
Now the easy grin reappeared. "Oh, you have no idea, Liz. But even after all these years of her ignoring me, I just couldn't bring myself to retaliate the way I could have. No sense stooping to her level." He turned to his twin. "So, you said you have it all under control? And here I was all ready to rescue you. What happened?" Sam eyed Myles carefully, trying to judge his brother's reaction.
The agent just smiled and shrugged slightly. "Let's just say 'enough.' In more ways than one. You'll see." He eyed his co-worker for a moment. "Tara, I must say, you do wear it well. Welcome to the intricate world of high society. I think we have a most numerous set of things to celebrate. Would you all prefer cider or a glass of wine?"
.
A few hours later, the party was in full swing. Elizabeth now had a very good idea of exactly why Myles hated this event and everything it represented. Margaret obviously invited the same group of socialites every year, and they were all as sick of hearing the ill-fated duet as Myles was of participating in it. Oh, they were all very cordial and polite, but the air of pity around them as they made their chitchat was tangible. She knew it was like a vise around her fiancé's head and heart.
In fact, she could tell now just by looking at him. Most wouldn't notice it, but his jaw tensed more with every "reacquaintance," and he'd given up on the cider an hour ago and now nursed a single neat Scotch. The blue-grey eyes were ice, but not like when he was working. That glare held a fire in the midst of its depths; this was sheer arctic frost.
He'll be a wreck again by the time we have to do this, she thought. Time to lighten the mood a bit. She stepped over and laid a hand on his arm. "Got a minute?"
Myles glanced down at her. "I suppose." His voice reflected his mood as well.
Elizabeth gently took the glass from him and set it down. Then she slipped her arm around his waist and murmured. "Let's go take a break."
He nodded toward where Sam and Tara were caught up in a conversation with several other people. "Should we let them know we're deserting them?"
She caught Tara's eye and quickly pointed upstairs, then signed MUSIC ROOM. Tara nodded, and signed TIME MINUTES FEW WE MEET? BREAK ALSO (ALIKE) NEED.
OK, Elizabeth replied. Then she took Myles' arm and moved out into the foyer and up the stairs.
As soon as they were behind the closed doors of the conservatory, she turned, slid her hands up his shoulders and kissed him intensely. She didn't release him until she felt most of the tension drain away again, and by the time that happened they were both breathless.
His voice was a bit unsteady, even as his gaze burned her. "Was that for your benefit, or mine?" he asked with a smile.
"Both," she replied, matching his expression. "I just thought perhaps you needed a reminder that tonight isn't going to be like all the others. The fact that it also gave me a chance to enjoy those wonderful kisses of yours was merely a bonus."
Before he could reply, she put a finger to his lips. "You're not alone in this any more, love. You have your grandfather behind you, and Sam, and me. And not one of us is going to let you hate this night, no matter how many highbrow social-climbers look down their proper noses at you in pity or whatever I was seeing down there. They have no idea what's coming, Myles. That room will be dead silent the entire time; you wait and see if I'm right."
"May I speak now?" His voice was distorted slightly by her finger. When she smiled and drew her hand away, he reached up and stroked her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know tonight will be different; and I appreciate you pulling me out of that fiasco down there. But I really don't care what anyone else thinks tonight; this is for Granddad alone. My anger down there was more for Aunt Teresa's sake this time. Those pitying comments directed at me? They were also slurs against her. Grandmother put her through the same torture year after year, made her a laughingstock… I guess, now that I know this is almost over, I realize what it did to Aunt Teresa as well."
"I'm surprised she put up with it."
He turned her around, and they stepped over to the window, gazing out at the lights that sparkled in the front yard. She leaned back against him, and he rested his cheek on her hair. "I think she did try to tell Grandmother a few times. But, as you may have noticed, it's not that easy to tell Grandmother anything that isn't already ingrained in her own mind. So Teresa kept going, just like I did, just like Granddad did." He smiled against her. "Until you came along and caught her completely off-guard."
"It's a gift," she grinned. "Hey, I figured that if I managed to get past that first date with you, I could worm my way into anyone's good graces. And I also assumed that Margaret already knew this was a farce, but that she was too stubborn to admit she'd made a mistake. I simply gave her a way out."
He raised a brow and drew her face around toward him. "You wormed your way into my good graces, huh?" he smiled. "Seemed to me like it was the other way around, considering how I was a complete jerk that night. I'm glad you thought I was worth the effort." He brushed the corner of her mouth with his lips, then drifted up over her cheek, her forehead…
"I told you they were up here making out." Sam's voice echoed behind them.
Myles smiled, even as he murmured against Elizabeth's lips. "Did you hear something?"
"I think so," she replied. "It seems to happen periodically when we're kissing. I'm wondering if perhaps it's simply a psychological phenomenon associated with the anticipation of getting married."
He laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Yeah; it's called 'little brother syndrome'." He turned and gave Sam a grin.
His twin gave it right back to him. "At least I choose to space my affectionate gestures out a bit." He made a show of giving Tara a lingering kiss on her neck, causing her to giggle. "You two are just joined at the lips. By the way, Grans is looking for you. Apparently it's 'showtime'."
Myles straightened, and held out his hand to Elizabeth. "We're ready."
.
He may have been ready for the "concert," but the last thing Myles expected as they came down the stairs was to hear rather irate voices coming from a small room just off the foyer. The door was ajar slightly, and his grandfather's voice reached them clearly, even with the noise of the party. Myles stopped so fast that Sam almost collided with him from behind.
"Margaret, you have put that boy through enough. This will be the last command performance. If you still want him to play at your Christmas soirée, then you will ask him from now on, not insist. And if he says no, you will accept that with that practiced graciousness of yours."
Her voice rose. "Since when have you made it your business? All these years, and you've never lodged a protest. Why now?"
Although they couldn't see him, all four of the younger people could picture Reginald Effingham drawing himself to his full height. "I should have done it years ago. I sat back and watched every ounce of enjoyment he ever had in that violin drain out of him at these monsters of yours, and I won't watch it any more." He paused, apparently waiting for another protest from her, but there was only silence. "And another thing," he continued, "I will be making tonight's introduction."
They heard her gasp.
"That's right, Margaret. I'm making sure that this ends here and now."
Myles steered the group quickly out of sight as they heard Margaret huff and stalk toward the door. A moment after she passed them, they saw Reginald Effingham walk slowly out of the room, brush down his tuxedo jacket, and sink into the wheelchair Violet had waiting for him.
"Well, that's that," he said to the nurse, a grin beaming, "now I can start recharging for the next time." As they headed back into the party, the old man turned his head slightly toward where Myles, Elizabeth, Sam and Tara were concealed.
"Didn't know the old man had it in him, huh?" he murmured. "Learned a lot from a couple of stubborn grandsons."
A pair of grins in response had him chuckling as he left the room.
.
The bright clink of silver on crystal brought heads around and conversations to a halt, particularly when the guests saw who was standing at the grand piano in the main room. Reginald Effingham stood to his full height, and ignored the trembling in his hands as he boomed out, "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our home, and Happy Holidays."
There was a murmur of reply, intermixed with a surprised rumbling at this unusual occurrence. The old man ignored it as well. "As well you know, we have a tradition at this shindig, and this year is no exception. In a moment I will introduce my grandson, who has graciously entertained you for the past twenty-some years." He paused, acknowledging the almost-silent collective groan. Myles flinched a little, and Elizabeth saw an aged lady sitting near the fireplace hide her face in her hands.
"Now," Reginald continued, a slight smile on the wrinkled face, "This year is a little different, in a few ways. First of all, my dear sister-in-law, Teresa, will not be accompanying on this piece. We feel she's more than paid whatever debt got her into this, and listened to far too many 'indirect comments' these past years." Now a genuine, affectionate smile was aimed in Teresa's direction, and she returned it with a grateful nod. "Instead, my grandson's new fiancée will play for him instead. And I hope you all take the opportunity to listen this time, because it will be Myles' final commandeered performance. I expect you'll find it a fitting 'swan song.' I most certainly do." He gestured gracefully to Myles and Elizabeth. "Myles, the stage is yours."
Elizabeth smiled and murmured, "Doesn't pull any punches, does he?"
"Nope." Myles picked up the bow of the Stradivarius, which had just been brought out, and then checked the tuning of the violin one more time. Then he took her hand and raised his voice to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present my lovely wife-to-be, Elizabeth Dillingham, who will accompany me tonight." That he could have said much more in the way of censure to this pompous group, but did not, made her love him all the more as he gently seated her at the piano and picked up the violin. Let the music speak for itself shone in his blue-grey eyes as he gazed at her, and she heard it in her head almost as if she had momentarily tapped into the "twin-speak" he shared with Sam.
Tara's very wide eyes and Sam's proud smile were the last things that registered in her mind before she focused on Myles and began to play.
